


Show Her

by FernMayo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FernMayo/pseuds/FernMayo
Summary: "His earpiece buzzed to life and he straightened.  ‘Soon,’ he mouthed to Brienne.  She swallowed and straightened as well, her face determined but apprehensive.  He wondered if she’d ever been kissed—big, ugly Brienne who was mocked by nearly every man she met.  She probably expected him to tease her after, or to shy away in disgust.  He wasn’t disgusted.  His curiosity was morphing into something else, but he wasn’t sure what, and he wanted to tell her something, but he didn’t know what that was, either.  That she was safe, perhaps, and that she wasn’t unwanted.  He tried to tell her with his eyes, but she was determined not to look at him.  So, when the signal came through, he told her another way."Jaime and Brienne go on a mission.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 23
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little angst/hurt/comfort to satisfy my inner fourteen-year-old girl. Often my mind is blown by the unprofessional behavior in modern AUs where Jaime and Brienne work together, so I attempted my own very unprofessional AU. TW: brief mention of attempted rape in the beginning.

The first thing Jaime noticed about Brienne was her hair. It had grown the three years since he’d seen her and it fell around her face in soft waves, the ends brushing the shoulders of her simple black sweater. The second thing he noticed was the familiar blush warming her cheeks. It bloomed as soon as she entered the room and everyone ceased talking to look at her. They didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were staring and even if they had, she would have noticed. The third thing he noticed was how tired she looked. The Brienne he’d known would have thrown her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and stared down every gawking face until they had no choice but to look away. This Brienne found a spot in the back of the room and sat, not bothering to look at anyone. Jaime saw the steep rise and fall of her chest, a muffled sigh, but she was otherwise still.

“You know why we’re here,” he began, addressing his reports. “Let’s run through it one more time and then I’ll brief our everyone separately. One change of plans—I’ll be the principle agent on this one.” He heard the whispers and focused his gaze on Brienne. She was looking up by now, her eyes trained on him with a look he couldn’t decipher. When he caught her eye she quickly looked down, so did, too. There were ten or so agents in the room, but none of them noticed the exchange. Their surprise at Brienne’s presence had worn off and they were all business, taking their cues from him.

Jaime had risen quickly through the Kings Landing Intelligence Agency, or the KLIA, no doubt due to his family connections. It had to have been after his disastrous first mission. He’d been sent to Riverrun to assist the local police with a kidnapping investigation and was partnered with Brienne. They managed to get captured, didn’t find the victims, and he was injured so badly that he still had nerve damage in his right hand. He’d been pulled off the case the moment they were recovered, but Brienne never gave up. She continued to investigate unofficially and eventually returned the Stark girls to their mother. It was a high-profile case; Catelyn Stark was the widow of the president’s top advisor, and she should have been rewarded, but she’d been forced out when her new partner died. Catelyn hired her on as private security, but Jaime hadn’t heard much since then. She’d obviously moved on from that job and now here she was, skin pale under the florescent lights, shoulders curled in to make herself smaller. 

Jaime continued with the briefing. So far, they knew someone was targeting couples, and based on the pattern of attacks they had a good idea of when and where he’d hit next. They’d done everything to draw him out short of baiting him directly, but KLIA’s hiring practices were light years behind most professions. They had qualified female agents, but not nearly enough. The few they had weren’t too keen to do what the mission required, and then one was injured in the field and went on leave. Another transferred, and the remaining two were too inexperienced. They’d hired a private firm, Bolton Security, known for its ruthlessness. Bolton’s agents typically took only the most dangerous jobs, the ones everyone else thought were impossible, but they’d gained some credibility recently and had branched into other work. KLIA had awarded the contract and met the agent, and Jaime fully expected the quick-witted redhead he’d spoken with earlier—Ygritte something or other. She’d been involved in the planning and was fully up to speed. The last thing he expected was for his past to walk through the door.

The briefing ended and most people filtered out. Jaime stayed behind to collect his things and when he turned, Brienne stood in front of him. “What happened to Ygritte?” It was the first thing that popped into his head, and he regretted it immediately. He used to know exactly what to say to make her roll her eyes fondly, or to coax out a tiny smile. Looking at her now was like looking at a stranger. They weren’t friends. They’d done a job together, bonded through shared trauma, and drifted apart. He thought about her often at first, and then less and less. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again until today.

“Not what you were expecting?” she asked. If he’d upset her, she didn’t show it. “Ygritte had an accident. I was the only person available on such short notice.”

“You’re working for Bolton.”

“Yes,” she answered. 

“I thought you were with the Starks.”

She stood tall and strong now that it was just the two of them, but she wouldn’t look at him, her eyes moving to rest on something over his shoulder. “I suppose you didn’t hear. Catelyn had a breakdown. She replaced her entire staff, but not before….” Her voice caught on the last word and she trailed off.

“What?” he asked with concern.

“Nothing,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re going to get killed.”

She didn’t hide her sigh this time, her breath escaping in a rush. She did look at him now, and he found her frustration oddly comforting. This Brienne was familiar. He didn’t know what to do with the other one. “He’s the only one who would hire me,” she said, voice low and firm. “Should I be a kindergarten teacher instead? Do you think someone would hire me to be their secretary?”

“If you need money—”

Her face grew red with fury. “I can take care of myself.” She turned and was halfway across the room before he caught up with her. He grabbed her wrist and gently tugged her around to face him, something he wouldn’t dream of doing to a coworker, but this was Brienne. She’d cleaned vomit out of his hair, and he’d held her hand after she was attacked and nearly raped. She didn’t try to escape his grasp, just stared down at him with a look that would have withered most men. “Let go of me.”

“I’ll be doing a lot more than this later,” he said, stepping into her space. 

“Don’t mock me,” she replied, “not you.” 

“I’m not. I just want to make sure you’re ready. And… and I want to make sure you’re safe.”

She pulled out of his grasp and walked away. “I’ll be ready,” he heard her say as she left.

\---- 

They took their places by the fieldhouse, a forgotten brick structure at the back of the park. It was closed, the windows boarded and the door padlocked, a casualty of budget cuts. The park itself was massive, a pond at one end, a baseball diamond towards the front, a tangle of trees, flowers, and hedgerows near the fieldhouse that were still kept up. Their fragrance drifted over on the warm breeze and Jaime thought it might be romantic if he wasn’t covered in tape and wires, or if there weren’t a dedicated team of people listening to him breathe, or if he was here with Cersei before they stopped speaking. He didn’t miss her, but he missed sharing nights like these with someone he cared about. 

Beside him, Brienne leaned against the brick façade, the only patch that wasn’t coated in ivy. They hadn’t been given the signal, so he attempted small talk, trying to think of anything other than work. “How’s your father?” he asked as he positioned himself in front of her. His fingers twitched in anticipation and he couldn’t help wondering what she tasted like. He’d never thought of her that way, but the situation quite literally called for it and he was growing curious. 

“He got married,” she said after some hesitation. “His wife is from Lys. I don’t see them much.” Her palms rested against the smooth bricks, perhaps grounding herself, and Jaime was overcome with guilt. He didn’t know exactly what Brienne had been through to bring her to King’s Landing, or what kept her in a job with only one possible outcome, but he would have if he’d stayed in touch. It worked both ways, of course, but Brienne was skittish, always the outcast. She’d never be the first to reach out. 

His earpiece buzzed to life and he straightened. ‘Soon,’ he mouthed to Brienne. She swallowed and straightened as well, her face determined but apprehensive. He wondered if she’d ever been kissed—big, ugly Brienne who was mocked by nearly every man she met. She probably expected him to tease her after, or to shy away in disgust. He wasn’t disgusted. His curiosity was morphing into something else, but he wasn’t sure what, and he wanted to tell her something, but he didn’t know what that was, either. That she was safe, perhaps, and that she wasn’t unwanted. He tried to tell her with his eyes, but she was determined not to look at him. So, when the signal came through, he told her another way.

“Okay?” he whispered, and she nodded. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, but she thought better of it and nearly pulled them away. He grabbed them before she could and pressed them close, one resting over his heart so she could feel it beating. Then, he snaked his hand through her hair, a gentle caress that trailed down to her neck and wound around the back of her head so he could pull her lips to his. 

The first kiss was so soft he barely felt it before she pulled away. He wanted to tell her it was alright, but people were listening, so he kissed her again, slowly and very, very gently, until he felt her relax. Her lips were plush and warm, and it definitely wasn’t her first kiss. He pulled the hand he still held over his shoulder so her arm was around his neck, then wrapped his arm around her waist. Her face betrayed her uncertainty, eyes large and unblinking, but she let him lead and soon he was kissing her again, still slowly, as he pulled her against him. His hand drifted from her hair and stroked her back, moving up and down her spine. It was supposed to be comforting, but he felt her shiver and pressed her closer until her chest rose and fell against his. Still, she merely followed his movements, reacting to whatever he did, either too professional or too unsure to do anything but follow.

For his part, Jaime had no clue what he was doing anymore. He’d meant to reassure her, to make up for the whispers and stairs she’d gotten when she walked into the briefing room, and to make it clear that mocking her was the furthest thing from his mind. He still wanted to do those things, but her lips were so soft and he could feel her breasts through the thin sweater she wore, and the little shiver she gave when he touched her…. His tongue drifted into her mouth and she gasped, a brief intake of breath that he nearly missed. Her hand clenched around the fabric of his shirt, but she didn’t stop him. He was controlled, each taste a caress, coaxing but not demanding, until he felt her tongue meet his. He deepened it then, his movements a suggestion of what he really wanted, and he pushed her against the wall of the fieldhouse. 

Jaime knew that somewhere, a pair of agents was watching their every move, ready to strike when the moment came. He didn’t care. He didn’t know what would happen after tonight, but he knew he wanted Brienne. He hadn’t known it before—maybe because he didn’t know she would feel this good. His hands began to move, running up and down her arms, touching her neck, drifting under her sweater and ghosting across the smooth skin of her stomach. Hers moved as well, not as sure but just as eager. He dipped his head and kissed the place where her shoulder met her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her there, and she shivered again. He trailed kisses up her neck and she let out a little noise—something between a moan and a gasp—full of surprise and pleasure. He felt himself grow hard and this close, she probably felt it, too, but he kissed her again anyway and didn’t stop until his earpiece crackled.

“False alarm,” said the agent. “Wrong guy. Get ready for a mountain of paperwork.” 

They separated and Jaime stole a glance at Brienne. She looked wonderfully flushed as she straightened her clothes and tried to act like she hadn’t just been manhandled in a park by KLIA’s finest. “It can wait until tomorrow,” Jaime responded and switched off the earpiece. “Come home with me,” he said, and turned to face her. She fiddled with her sleeve as if she hadn’t heard. “Come home with me,” he repeated, with the same softness that had been in his kisses, and she looked up with naked astonishment. 

“Why?” she asked.

“You know why.” He took her hand and led her out of the park, his mind swimming with how much he wanted her, how much he’d missed her, and all the things he was willing to do to keep her safe. He wanted to tell her, to ask her to trust him again, but she was too stubborn to let him help her. Instead, he showed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to update this, but I wanted to do Brienne’s POV. I couldn’t remember what happened and kept being like ‘wait when did Jaime get hard? Oh, AFTER the tongues. Right, right right… okay so that hand goes there….’ 
> 
> I don’t know how it got so angsty, but I’m a messy bottom sometimes and I write whatever gets my rocks off, usually without much planning or proof-reading and only if I’m feeling it. This is not good writing, but I hope it makes you all tingly.

When Roose Bolton wanted her dead, she’d be dead. Brienne was under no illusions. Fortunately for her, he seemed only to want to humiliate her. “Sir, I don’t think anyone will believe—”

“You’re a woman, and an agent. Sell it.” The implication was clear. There was to be no argument. Bolton’s firm was known for cleaning up situations lesser agents walked away from, often with deadly consequences. He didn’t take contracts with KLIA, so either he needed the money or he had darker motives. Either way, Brienne had no choice but to obey if she wanted a job, and she did.

She’d started in Riverrun working patrols before her promotion to Detective, then Renly died and everything changed. She’d been there, seen the life leave him slowly while she held him and waited for the ambulance. There was nothing she could have done, but as the only woman on the force and an unconventional one (if she was feeling charitable towards herself--big and ugly if she wasn’t), she’d been a target since the day she joined Riverrun PD. Rumors spread that negligence on her part had allowed the suspect to slip by undetected. It hadn’t. She was already in the building, but it was enough to create a cloud of suspicion that followed her wherever she went. 

Going to work for Catelyn Stark felt like coming home. Catelyn trusted her, and the children admired her. She knew her father loved her, but he’d just met his soon-to-be wife and she didn’t hear from him much. He represented Tarth in the Senate and was always busy. He never initiated contact, but at least he picked up. Still, she was lonely, and the Starks were like family. It was easy, and it was where she belonged.

Everything changed after Robb died. Catelyn became cold and secretive, shutting herself in her office all day and replacing most of her security detail. At the same time, her father stopped answering her calls. She remembered the last time she’d heard from him. It was Sevenmas. When she’d called, he’d told her he couldn’t speak long. In the background she heard the sound of paper tearing, people laughing, children running circles round her childhood home. She told him she loved him, he wished her a happy Sevenmas and hung up. She called him on his birthday and he didn’t answer, then on her birthday. Nothing. Maybe he believed the rumors, maybe he didn’t, but he had a wife and a career, and she was away in Winterfell. They hadn’t been close since she left home and he’d started dating, and Renly’s murder was a mark on his family’s name, so it was easy for him to distance himself. 

At work, she managed to hang on as her colleagues were replaced. Even though Catelyn no longer confided in her, Brienne was still the person who’d refused to stop looking for Sansa and Arya, RPD policy be damned. Still, she struggled with the Starks’ sudden disfavor. They’d been her family after she was cast adrift by hers. Holidays were now spent by herself, or with friends who couldn’t get back home. 

It was lonely but not unbearable, and the days stretched on until she awoke suddenly one February night. There was no sound, no sirens or people outside, nothing to disturb her sleep. Then a shadow fell across the bed and she rolled away just in time to dodge a blow. Something glinted in the moonlight where she’d been laying—a knife perhaps. That was confirmed during the struggle when her attacker plunged it into her stomach. She managed to fight him off and get her gun, which was taped to the side of her nightstand, and fire one shot before he escaped. The next thing she remembered was waking up in the hospital. Returning home, she found a bullet hole in her bedroom wall and a voicemail telling her she’d been fired. The attacker was never caught, but in her darker moments, she suspected that Catelyn had hired him. 

That had been the worst time of her life—worse than when Renly died. Sansa and Arya visited, but she could tell they were torn between their admiration of her and their loyalty to their mother. In the end, she spared them the heartache and stopped reaching out to them, as well. She threw herself into training and looking for work but found herself blacklisted. Only Bolton would hire her, and only because he hated the Starks. She didn’t want to take the job, but there wasn’t much else she was good at, and only so many things she could do to escape. She loved to read but struggled to focus. Television was too upsetting, either because the people on TV were happy or because they weren’t. She spent hours walking Godswood National Park, hiking until her bones ached and she could barely stand, until maybe she could fall into a dreamless sleep. 

That routine followed her to King’s Landing. There wasn’t much hiking, so she sweat it out at the gym. Surprisingly, she liked the work she did for Bolton. It required more thought and more physicality than standing beside Catelyn and looking imposing. There was a reason no one took the jobs she did, and she reasoned that if she were good enough, she could avoid the dangers that had befallen so many of her fellow agents. 

Brienne wasn’t just good, though. She was the best. So when Bolton sent her to the KLIA, she balked openly. Almost anyone could do that job, and it was the one job she probably couldn’t. She knew there’d be taunts and whispers—there always were. She could take a man down in three seconds flat, but these days she was too tired to do anything about their words. Before Catelyn, she would have squared her shoulders and stared them down, but she no longer had the energy, and what good would it do? Nothing would change. Sansa would have told her those people were wrong and someone would see her inner beauty, but she didn’t have Sansa’s voice, or anyone’s, to reassure her, and anyway there was no hiding what she was. Still, wallowing wouldn’t help either, so forged ahead and blocked out the noise. 

The morning she was due at KLIA headquarters she chose the most nondescript outfit she could think of—black sweater, black pants, black oxfords. Heads turned regardless as she walked down the corridor to the briefing room. “They shoulda put a wig on Lannister instead,” she heard someone whisper, and the hallway erupted in hushed giggles. She nearly walked into the door. She’d had no idea, but all she could do was turn the knob and go in.

She sat in the back as quickly and quietly as she could and ignored all the eyes on her. She heard him speak and suddenly she was in a little room with no windows, cradling him in her lap and telling him everything would be okay. She took a breath to calm herself and stole a glance at him. To her relief, he was fully healed, his hand twirling a pen with amazing dexterity. In fact, he was still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. He wore his hair shorter, but still long enough that it swept back from his forehead rakishly. He’d filled out, too, stronger than the man who’d nearly given up three years ago. More than that, he looked like he was in his element, his voice assured and his reports hanging on his every word.

“I’ll be the principle agent on this one,” she heard him say, and her eyes snapped up to his. He couldn’t be serious. He was meant to lead, not to go out in the field. What in the seven hells could he be thinking? She caught his gaze and saw worry written all over his face. Of course he thought the plan wouldn’t work, and of course he wanted to clean up the mess himself. She looked down at the table and tried to focus on the briefing. 

Her suspicions were confirmed when she confronted him afterwards. “What happened to Ygritte?” he asked, because of course he would. It’s the first thing she would’ve asked, so she ignored the ache below her ribcage—the one she got whenever something hurt her and she was trying to pretend it didn’t. 

“Ygritte had an accident.” Ygritte was dead.

“You’re going to get killed,” he said, and then he physically stopped her from leaving. Had it been anyone other than Jaime she would have knocked him on his ass, but the way he held her was gentle. He stepped into her space to say something, but she told him to let go before he could. “I’ll be doing a lot more of this later,” he said, and it was too much. The humiliation made her dizzy, made her ears ring and her face grow hot. “Don’t mock me,” she said, and it was a plea even if it sounded angry. She couldn’t do this. She’d nearly died three times, but kissing Jaime Lannister would end her once and for all. She told him she’d be ready, but it was a lie. 

\------------

Small talk. She could do small talk, except she didn’t have much to talk about. She stood next to the fieldhouse and tried to think of what she could say about Selwyn that wouldn’t seem utterly morose. Nope, she couldn’t do small talk. It didn’t matter. Jaime gave her the signal and then…

She hadn’t thought about who would make the first move, and it wasn’t like they’d rehearsed. She did the first thing she thought of, which of course involved Jaime’s pecs. Stupid. No sooner had she rested her hands on his chest than she tried to remove them, but he grasped them and pressed them closer. His heartbeat under her palm was soothing, and her breathing slowed to match. His hand trailed up her neck and into her hair, lingering and caressing, almost like she was someone beautiful. Then, before she could think anymore, he pulled her in and kissed her. 

She pulled away immediately, nerves too raw. He followed her, kissing her again and giving her no space to withdraw. His touches were soft and reassuring and clouded her doubts, enveloping them in a fog of sensation and pushing them to the back of her mind. He draped her arm around his shoulder and then circled her waist with his own. They’d already been close, but now his warmth surrounded her and she remembered how good it felt to be held. With that memory came a second one—that this was all a lie, and Jaime was here because Bolton had sent the wrong girl. 

She dared to look into his eyes. He was the man who’d kept three men from killing her and nearly lost his hand doing it. She’d seen the best and worst sides of him in a single day and had fought to keep him alive because of it. That was how she knew the truth would be reflected back at her, some inkling of what he was thinking. He looked at her face like he was trying to solve a puzzle, but his gaze was soft and kind. It was care, she realized. That’s what she saw in his eyes. Then he was kissing her again and stroking her back and she couldn’t remember anyone being so gentle with her.

She shivered under his touch. Instead of pulling away, Jaime held her flush against him. She felt his chest push into her, a firm weight that kept her grounded and safe. She melted against him, and his tongue teased her bottom lip. She made a sound, barely a whisper, and held him tighter. He didn’t stop so she opened for him, let him do what he wanted. She let herself trust him. 

He pushed her against the bricks and began to touch her. His fingers danced across her hip, glided along the hem of her pants, traced the muscles of her stomach until she sighed into his mouth. She took that as permission to run a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and another down his chest. He pulled back and before she could catch her breath his lips brushed her neck. She felt it all over, even places his hands hadn’t been. She stifled a moan when his tongue slid out to taste her skin and she could no longer deny that he wanted her. Then he kissed her again until she forgot why they were doing it, until she forgot everything but the way he felt and the way he made her feel.

When it was over and she was no longer in his arms, she questioned any of it had been real. A tech came to remove their mics and Jaime made an excuse to leave, not keen on going back to the office. They stood there until the tech left and Brienne prepared to say goodbye, perhaps for longer this time. Her heart ached and there was no way to pretend it didn’t. 

“Come home with me,” he said. She tensed. She couldn’t look at him for fear she’d misheard. Then as gently as he’d kissed her, he said it again.

“Why?” she asked, all her doubts flooding back to her frontal lobe.

“You know why.” 

She wasn’t sure she did, so searched his eyes for some meaning. It was there showing her everything he couldn’t say. It was there showing her the truth.


End file.
